Howl of Pain and Vengeance
by blackozzy
Summary: I'm a fan of wolves, and I was disappoint that Stephenie Meyer claimed her werewolves to be mindless and savage creatures. This Fanfic, will portray them as I believe they should be, while trying to keep as close to what SM had them.
1. Prologue

**Twilight**

**A Howl of Pain and Vengeance**

**Prologue**

_Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and character names._

He rested a clawed hand against the rough skin of a pine tree. The soft undergrowth beneath his paws was comforting. He raised his nose to the sky taking a sniff, as silver lined clouds moved sluggishly overhead. A half moon hung low in the sky, yet to reach its zenith. The human was still struggling to run, but his heart still beat strong with fear and adrenaline.

A drop of blood fell from his other claw. His muzzle twitched ever so slightly, a desire to taste the human's blood in his mouth, to feel the hot rich blood run down his throat. He restrained himself, painful as it was. The human was bait for another predator. He grinned, long fangs becoming exposed to the weak moon light and glinting as if made from silver themselves.

The wind stirred, bringing with it a scent that was almost as sweet as the human's blood. Sweet for the prospect that it brought, rather than being pleasing to his extra sensitive nose. He lowered himself to the ground and moved off in a wide hunting circle, to prevent his prey from detecting him. It wouldn't do to scare of his prey now, not after finally finding a human hiking out this far and late.

The ground flew beneath his feet, his amber eye's glinting in the dark, as if possessed of an inner fire. The world around him glowed in various hues of blue and yellow, as his eye's darted around him, ever watchful. His nose was constantly drawing in air, the scent's varied and distinct, almost taking on a colour of there own. He slid to a halt, his prey was almost atop of the human.

With a bunch of his legs, he launched himself into the air. His claw's digging into the thick bark of an old oak tree. Now with the stealth and agility granted to him by the moon, he jumped and swung from tree to tree, going for the high ground while his prey was focused on the ground. Soon he could see his prey, ash blond hair, a slim frame, dark clothes.

He smiled to himself, as his prey sat hunched on a low branch, watching the wounded human. Drawn by the fresh flowing blood, his prey was now clearly wondering what had attacked such fresh meat and left it alive. His gaze drifted to the human. The hiker was of medium build, with short cropped dark brown hair, and green eyes full of fear. His red hiking jacket was ripped down the left arm, and dark red rivets of blood were streaked down it.

He was now almost atop his prey, as it sensed the sudden danger. He grinned as he launched himself down atop his prey, as it first looked around itself, before raising it's gaze upwards. It's eyes widened in fear as his mouth, wide open let lose a loud growl. His prey moved with speed and grace, to dodge out of the way, but he grabbed it by the right leg, and threw it towards the ground, as he twisted his body in mid-air to supply as much force to the throw as possible.

His prey hit the ground, leaving a slight impression in the ground, but was on its feet in a flash. He landed before it, deftly on his feet, and rose up to his full height, standing erect on his hind legs. He glared down at his prey, standing over it by two feet. He flexed his clawed fingers as his prey crouched and bared its fangs at him. It launched at him, and he sidestepped, swiping his right clawed hand into the back of his prey.

Claws sunk deep into solid tissue and muscle, like butter, around his prey's spinal column. A howl of pain and fury escaped his prey and he slammed his prey to the ground, planting a paw onto his preys backside, holding it down firmly as it thrashed about trying to get free. He brought his muzzle down level to it's ear, and spoke briefly in a throaty growl.

"Die Vampire," With that, he snapped his teeth deep into the back of it's throat, and ripped the head off.

In short order it was lying in pieces. He raised his muzzle into the air, and howled up at the moon. He sniffed after the human, but it had escaped further during the fight. A throaty chuckle escaped his fanged mouth as he knew another brother would be born soon.

"Be free Brother, and be careful!" He said in a throaty growl to the escaping human, before grabbing the head and torso of his prey, and headed deeper into the mountain forest.


	2. Chapter 1

**Twilight**

**A Howl of Pain and Vengeance**

**Chapter One**

_Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and character names._

I try not to think back to that day, when everything changed for me. Although night would be more accurate. You hear stories about hikers that just disappear, or are found dead after a nasty accident. What they don't tell you, what they don't know, is what really happens to hikers out in the wilds.

As hard as I try not to think back to that night, I'll never be able to forget it. For on that fateful night, life as I knew it ended. Only to be replaced with a new life. A life that could only be truly described as the stuff nightmares are made off.

-/-

My thoughts are fuzzy. I can only see blackness, and my hearing is dull. A faint buzzing is all my ears seem to perceive. With my head swimming, I try to fight for control of my senses. To work out where I am. With my eyes blind and my ears dull I start with my sense of touch. Praying that my nerve endings still work. The first sensation to reach my brain is a faint ache in my left arm, but I'm unable to focus on it.

The next sensation to reach me, is that I'm lying atop something. I can feel the edges of my body pressed against something. Something soft I believe by the lack of sensation. A bed maybe. Soft enough to keep me comfortable while supporting my frame. I focus on the top side of my body. Can I feel a sheet, or my clothes. It doesn't feel like I'm wearing my clothes.

A feeling tries to settle in, but my fuzzy brain can't grasp it. I believe it should be panic I'm feeling. Why aren't I in my hiking gear? Aren't I asleep in my hotel room? No, I can't be. I don't recall returning to the hotel. How strange. I try to move, but my limps feel like lead weights, and I can barely move my fingers. The feeling I believe to be panic tries once more to settle in, but my brain is still unable to grasp at it.

What is wrong with me? I'm still blind so I can't see where I am. So I focus all my efforts onto my hearing. To push past the faint buzzing in my ears. Something starts to get through, yet it keeps stopping. No, not stopping, repeating. I can just make out a faint beep beep noise. It sounds familiar and oddly comforting. If only I could figure out why.

The strain of forcing myself to just achieve this basic awareness is taxing to me, and I feel myself starting to slip. Slip into a deep darkness of peace and quiet. Where nothing seems important, and life carefree. I try to fight it for a mere moment, but I can't. So I slip and wonder when next I'll have the strength to return.

-/-

I roll my head slightly and groan, raising my right hand to my face. Placing the length of my hand over my eyes, and lower forehead. A hear a slight movement nearby, to my left, and slightly downwards of me. It sounds like the faint shuffle of a shoe upon a hard polished floor. I open my eyes, and gasp, quickly shutting them again.

"Easy Mr. Winters." A masculine voice says, in a soft and reassuring tone of voice. "You've been asleep for a while, and it'll take a little while for your eyes to adjust." The same voice says. I lift my eyelids up ever so slightly, wincing at the stinging sensation in my eyes.

"Where am I?" I ask, vague recollections starting to return to me, yet nothing coherent yet.

"You're in Namsos Hospital," The voice answered, as a shadow passes over me, allowing me to open my eyes wider. He could now see an elderly grey haired doctor leaning over me, in the typical white doctors coat. As I open my eye's wider, my vision sharpens. I could clearly see each wrinkle in the doctors skin. The few flecks of grey imbedded in the doctors blue eyes.

"Namsos," I whisper, a few memories returning to me. "I was hiking along Klompen." The doctor pulled back, with a slight nod of his head. The light stung briefly as he did so, but this time I could keep my eye's open.

"Yes, the poor old woman who found you crawling along the road side, said you must of been hiking Klompen." The doctor said with a faint smile.

I focus on the name, but dismiss it as it's Norwegian, and my Norwegian was sketchy at best. I finally take in the small room that I'm lying in. A chair nearby holds my backpack and clothes. I can see the tear in my hiking jacket. A small window in the far wall is shuttered so I can't see out. Other than the bed, the only other items of note are an IV and a small telly on a small wooden stand in the corner.

"Now long have I been asleep?" I ask, returning my focus onto the doctor, his scribbling is clear and distinct to my ears.

"Four nights, Mr. Winters. When you were brought in, I didn't think you'd last the night due to the amount of blood you had lost." The doctor looked up and smiled broadly. "I am glad to say I was wrong. Through you spent the first two nights thrashing about as your body fought a fever."

"I'm afraid we had to restrain you." The doctors face took on a brief frown, which quickly disappeared. "How do you feel Mr. Winters?" He asked me.

"Fine," I said as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. As I thought about it, I realised that I felt better than fine. Indeed I felt, well perfect. The doctor raised an eyebrow and leaned back over me, and rested the back of his hand on my forehead.

"You're still running a slight fever Mr. Winters, but I do believe you are actually in good health." He stepped back and walked to the end of the bed where he put the chart he'd been writing in, before slotting his pen into his coat pocket. Something occurred to me then.

"How do you know to speak English to me?" I asked.

"We found your passport in your backpack." The doctor said. "Luckily for you I studied medicine in England at Oxford University." I thanked him then, and watched him leave. The noises of the hospital flooded my room as the door opened, and when it shut, I realised that if I listened hard, I could still hear the hospital noises clearly.

"What happened to me?" I ask myself quietly.

A flash of a memory makes me jerk my head upwards, and then it is gone. My breath had caught in my throat, and I could feel a faint trickle of sweat form on my brow. I shut my eyes and shake my head. I don't know why I just saw a giant wolf, jaw agape, but I quickly dismiss it as pure nonsense. I throw back the covers of the bed, and swing my legs around to hang over the edge of the bed.

I push myself up onto my feet, barely feeling the cool polished floor beneath my feet. My focus is on how strong my legs feel. As if I hadn't just spend four days confined to a bed. I look down at them, sticking out from my hospital gown, and gasp. I knew I did a lot of walking and hiking. I even went to the gym twice a week, yet my legs had never looked so toned.

I bent forward to run a finger over the clearly defined curve of muscle beneath skin, when I notice that my arm's are in the same shape. I know for a fact that they barely showed any sign of muscle definition before. I quickly untie the hospital gown, and pull it off. I stand there naked looking down at a six pack that had only ever been there in my dreams.

My heart is racing now, and I can barely think straight. I know something is wrong, and while being in a hospital is the best place to find out what, something in the back of my mind tells me to go. To run! I quickly grab my hiking clothes and get dressed. The left arm off my jumper and hiking jacket have four slashes going down from the shoulder to the elbow.

I stop to check my left arm, to find four pale scars running down the length of my tricep. I sling my backpack onto my back, barely registering how light it feels compared to the last time I'd been carrying it. I step up to the door, and take a deep breath, before opening it and stepping out. I allow my hearing to heighten, scanning conversations around me, as I quickly head down the corridor looking for a way out.

-/-

Somehow I manage to exit the hospital without anyone stopping me. I stop to inhale the fresh air, before getting my bearings. First stop the Børstad hotel. A street sign says I'm on Havnegata. Thank the lord I'm not far from the hotel. I start walking down the road looking for the Herlaugs Gate turn off. I take the second crossroad that I come too, heading right. The road heads straight on, until it curves round and becomes Carl Gulbransons gate.

I can now see the hotel, just down the street. I smile, thankful that I got here okay. I even slow my pace to enjoy the crisp cool air on my warm skin, the sun is low in the sky, heading to the east. Sunset can't be too far off, and I wonder how soon I can get a plane home. Home. After all this I'll be more than happy to return to gloomy old England.

I step up into the hotel, walking briskly across the foyer. I notice a queue waiting for the elevator, so I head for the stairwell which takes me past the front desk. The woman behind the desk, raises her eyes at me. As I quickly glance at her, I see her eyes widen slightly, and she quickly greets me in Norwegian. I smile and give a slight wave to her.

I run the stairs, two at a time, until I reach the top floor. Not such a feat as you might think as there are only two floors. Soon I'm stood in my suite and crossing to the bed where I dump my backpack. I make my way into the bathroom to relieve myself and catch my reflection in the mirror. I pause briefly, but I really have to relieve myself so I can't stop to admire my hardened facial features. Yet I can't help noticing that I seem to look ten years younger.

As I stand over the toilet, I ponder my youthful appearance and my highly toned body. My mind tells me that it's impossible. That I must be dreaming. Yet when I pinch myself it hurts. I sigh as I finish relieving myself. Four day's ago I was a forty two year old man hiking through a mountain forest. Today I'm a scared thirty year old that just wants to go home.

Once I've washed my hands, I make my way back to the bedroom and start packing my things. I remember to pull my English to Norwegian book out of my backpack, and put it into my grey jacket. I also swap my slashed blue jumper for another blue jumper, and stash my slashed jumper and hiking jacket at the bottom of my largest suitcase. Once I've got both my suitcases packed, I quickly scan the room for anything I might of missed.

There appears to be nothing left behind, so I grab my jacket, check my wallet is safely tucked away in the inside pocket, and grab both suitcases before heading back down stairs, using the elevator this time. Once back on the ground floor I make my way sedately towards the counter, where the woman is still sat. I notice she must be about twenty-five to thirty.

Her long blonde hair is tied up in a bun, and her blue eyes sparkle as they look up at me. I grin to myself as I come to a standstill upon the other side of the polished wood counter. With the aid of my book, and the woman who's more than willing to help, I managed to pay for my brief stay and ask for the woman to order a taxi for me. Once it arrives, I bid her farewell and thank her for all her help.

Once my suitcases are in the boot of the taxi, I sit in the back of the taxi, and it drives away. The driver already knows that I want to get to the airport. I really want to urge him to drive faster, but I don't want to draw too much attention to myself at this point. So I end up staring out of the window at the darkening sky, wondering once more. 'What happened to me?"


	3. Chapter 2

**Twilight**

**A Howl of Pain and Vengeance**

**Chapter Two**

_Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and character names._

At last I have found what you were looking for. It doesn't understand. A perfect specimen for examination and maybe more. I hope this news pleases you, and if so, that you grant me your most precious of gifts.

-/-

I'm running through a forest. Running so quickly that the trees are flying past me in a blur. Yet I find I am able to weave between the trees easily and without mishap. I burst through the tree line into a clearing. The clearing is small and has a rough circular shape. I finally take in that the trees around me are unfamiliar to me. A small pool at the far edge of the clearing sparkles in the moon light.

I find my face drawn upward towards the sky, and the bright moon. A full moon. I hear a howl sound close by, and fear makes me move onwards. Yet as I pass the pool I slide to a halt. I caught sight of something. Something strange out of the corner of my eye. Looking around the clearing again, I see nothing at all.

I glance at the pool by my feet, and stumble backward. A growl of fear escape my lips, before realisation sinks in. I step back towards the pool and stare down at my reflection. Staring back at me is a beast from nightmares. A giant wolf glares at me with amber eyes. I fall to my knees, as I try to fight the truth of what I see. I am the giant wolf!

I raise my muzzle to the full moon and howl out my pain.

-/-

I awake with a start as the wheels of the plane I'm on touch tarmac. The plane bounces once before settling firmly on the ground. I can feel the place decelerate beneath me. I wipe the sweat from my brow, and notice my neighbour staring at me.

"Bad dream," I mutter with a shake of my head. I sigh thinking about how I wasn't almost able to pass security back in Norway.

I look ten years younger than I do in my passport, but they couldn't prove it wasn't me, and my English accent allowed me off with a scowl, and slight shake off the head. After all, how can I be 42 and look like I'm thrity? I stare at my feeble reflection in the small window to my left. I once again trace the solid line of muscle that is my jaw, and wonder at the lack of wrinkles upon my brow.

I no longer even have my cute laughter wrinkles at the corners of my eyes. I feel perfect and strong. I don't know how to explain what has happened to me, or how to explain to my wife, son or best friends either. The only lie I can think off, is saying that I've had plastic surgery. Yet as I drop my finger from my jaw, I wonder if there is a plastic surgeon on this planet with the skill to work a face into perfection like mine.

Also women are flirting openly with me, and I've even caught a few guys checking me out. It's embarrassing and flattering at the same time. Still I'm back in England. If only I knew where I was going from here. My escape from Norway was instinctual, and now that I'm back, I'm worrying about what people with say. I'm afraid my wife wont believe me. That my son wont except me.

I can't go home. Not right away anyway. I need somewhere to lay low and think things through. With a sigh, and bring myself back to the present and wait for the plane to stop moving so I can disembark. I look down the plane, as a young female air stewardess looks in my direction, and smiles warmly at me. I feel my cheeks heat up as I look away. This is going to take some getting used too.

-/-

So here I am, sat in an internet cafe in Carlisle. I actually live in the village of Port Carlisle near the Hadrian's Wall. So close to home, but I need to do research first. I need to be able to explain why I look about ten years younger. My flicks back to the idea of plastic surgery, but I don't want to tell people such a vain excuse. I focus my gaze on the monitor, the search engine google, ready and waiting for me to use it.

I type in 'illnesses to reduce age', hoping that there is something out there that I could use as an excuse. Yet a quick glace through the first two pages, destroys any hope right off the bat. I got loads of sites about preventing age related illnesses and how to maintain a young healthy lifestyle. I grit my teeth together as I ponder my next search.

I type in 'getting younger', and google offers me some possible search choices on what I've typed. My eyes immediately focus onto 'getting younger every day'. I promising search choice, and one I click one, a feeling of satisfaction filling me up. I start scanning through the different sites, yet it seems to me that after each one I've been through, that the methods used to provide reversed aging are either far fetched or worse.

I can see my wife asking to try the method I tell her I used. I can see the disappointment in her face it becomes clear that I lied to her. Oh god, I can't do that! I scroll back up to the top of the google search page. I take one last stab at finding an excuse for my youth that will be accepted and left alone by my wife. My fingers hover over the keyboard and I realised that there perfectly still.

My breath catches in my throat, as I stare down at my perfect still and balanced hands. The wrinkles are gone, yet the blue veins are still noticeable. Except now the veins stand out strong and healthy. I recall from my past, whenever I tried to hold my hands steady, how after a few seconds, they would start to shake slightly. My hands were steady enough to carry trays one handed, yet never steady enough to remain completely motionless.

I drop a finger to the letter I on the keyboard when I freeze. For google to offer up a solution for getting younger, there must be a lot of people out there searching for the secret of eternal youth. Or other people who found themselves in my position. It was strangely comforting as well as scary to thing that there maybe other people like me out there. No, not them like me. Me like them.

With a slight shake of my head I type in 'improving facial features', and hit search. The first few sites seem to be about applying makeup to achieve a younger look. Yet I find my eyes resting on the link for facial plastic surgery. I go to scroll down, when I realise that providing a vain excuse wouldn't be completely bad. At least no-one would question why it worked so well, I hoped.

I click on the link, and browse through it quickly, gleaming information on the various procedures used to enhance youth and dismiss age. The brow lift, cheek augmentation, cosmetic chin surgery, ear surgery, eyelid surgery, face lift, lip augmentation, rhinoplasty. What a strange name for a nose job. I think over the options, and decided to use the face lift excuse.

One option is more believable than many, especially as I wasn't gone all that long. Still I have to first swallow my pride. Not an easy thing to do for an old man. I laugh to myself, as I logoff the computer. I notice quite a few faces staring at me, now that my eyes aren't glued to the monitor, and feel the blush reach my cheeks once again. I stand up, grab my jacket and leave as quickly as I can without actually running.

I stop to breath in the cool spring air, before heading down the street. It quickly became apparent to me, shortly after returning to England that I was no longer bothered by the cold. I still felt it to a mild degree, but I remained pleasantly warm. Because of this, I no longer wore my jumpers. It seemed pointless to do so. So with my jacket handing over my left shoulder, cuff held in my raised left hand, I headed to my hotel to solidify my vain excuse.

-/-

I'm running for my life. I know this, as I know that I'm alive. What I don't know is why I'm running for my life. What could be so scary to me, that fear has a vice like grip on my heart. I should slow down, take in my bearings, but my legs refuse to slow down. I must survive, I must run! I want to scream in frustration, when a crash behind me, finally brings me to a halt.

The first thing my eyes settle on is a young and very handsome man. He has wavy ash blonde hair, and is slim of build. Yet I can somehow detect that while slim, he possesses immense strength. My eyes quickly fly across his dark clothing, before settling on something so terrible that I scream aloud.

-/-

I wake up screaming and drenched in my own sweat. A cold sweat. A sweat reserved for man's deepest fears. I sit there breathing deeply and heavily while I let my mind banish the nightmare into the back of my mind with all the others. Once I feel a little better, I slowly get out of the hotel bed, and make my way into the on suite. I turn the shower on, before glancing into the mirror. I wonder if I'll ever get accustomed to looking young. Again.

A hot shower later, and I feel ready to face the day. God give me strength, I say in silent pray. For today I leave Carlisle and head home. To a wife and son. A family I hope will still except me, and forgive me for the lies I must tell them. The lies they must believe to be true. I can picture them both in my head. My wife Wilma with her long red hair, waving gently in the wind. Her love for me strong and clear in her blue eyes.

My son Jack, with his short light brown hair, that is usually a tangled mess. I smile to myself at the image, knowing that Jack believes it makes him look cool and wild. He too has blues eyes, and while I can see his love for me in them, I also see his mischievous side. To be young again. I realised how stupid that thought is, considering my returned youth.

Once I've checked out, I climb into my car. A silver Vauxhall Vectra. It's a nice car, and it gets me and the family where we need to go. It doesn't look to shabby either. I feel it tells people that I'm a business man. At least I hope that's what it tells people about me. Sat behind the wheel, knowing that I'm finally going home, I feel panic and fear set in.

"Why me?" I say in a whisper, resting my head briefly onto the top of the steering wheel. I take a deep breath, running through my excuses, again, before raising my head, and putting the key into the ignition. Turning the key slightly ignites the engine, and my car purrs to life. What can I say, I'm a cat person, not a dog person. I check my mirrors before reversing out of the parking space.

How different driving feels now. The most important difference is that it feels like I'm crawling along. Because I feel like I'm going so slowly, I am able to keep the car perfectly under control. I can feel the vibrations of the car distinctly where before driving in my car felt smooth and relaxing. I find I have the urge to push my foot down on the accelerator pedal, but I don't want to get home that quickly.

I think back through my life, wondering if I've ever felt this afraid, just to go home before. I feel like a naughty school boy, who knows that his mum will know what he's done as soon as she looks at him. I Shouldn't feel guilty about something I had no control over. Yet apart of me, feels that it is my fault. I should of taken someone with me. Would it of made a difference? I think back to my nightmares.

No, I realise. Against that nightmarish creature, having someone with me may of actually made things worse. Okay, so I should of spent the day relaxing at the hotel instead. That would of certainly made a difference. At least that night anyway. Would it of still be hunting the next few nights? I couldn't say. I was so lost in my thoughts it took me a second to realised that I was coming upon my house.

I pull up outside of it, and notice a curtain twitch from the living room window. Wilma always keep an eye out for me, forever worrying about me. If only her worries weren't about to be justified. I got out of the car, as the front door opened. I kept my back to my house as I made my way round to the boot. As I popped the boot open, I heard the soft footfalls of Wilma's slippers on our stone pathway.

"Harry hunny, are you okay?" I heard Wilma ask. I can detect the hint of worry in her voice. I'm a day early. I pull both suitcases out and put them on the ground.

"I'm fine Love." I say with a sigh and turn to look at her. "But I must ask your forgiveness." I say, watching the shock spread across her face, as she steps back from me.


	4. Chapter 3

**Twilight**

**A Howl of Pain and Vengeance**

**Chapter Three**

_Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and character names._

Aro stood still, before his chosen three. Each were picked for speed and strength. Yet most importantly, each was expendable. They had to be for the job he had in mind for them. He clasped his hands behind his back.

"You know what to do?" He asked them.

"Yes Aro," They replied. Loyal and trusting. Aro smiled at them.

"Do what you must to gain his trust. I want him alive."

"Yes Aro," They say again. Aro Dismissed them with a wave of his hand, his thoughts turned to his informer and what to do with him.

-/-

Watching my wife recoil from me hurt. It hurt a lot. A sharp shearing pain right in my heart. I turned back to the car, slamming the boot shut. I can feel a tear streak down my cheek, as I rest my head onto the back off the car. I start to believe that I shouldn't of come home, when I feel a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Harry?" My wife asks quietly. I look up to see her standing right there, beside me. As I stare into her eyes, I realise I don't see fear in them. Nor do I see repulsion. Just a little sadness and the question why. I raise my hand to her cheek, freezing as she stiffens. She then relaxes and leans toward me.

My warm hand gently connects with her cheek, and she sighs softy. I find myself thanking my lucky stars that our love is strong enough for Wilma to brave my altered state. To allow me to touch her. Allowing me to pass my love for her, through my touch. I feel her hand shift from my shoulder up to my neck. I smile warmly as I slower my face to hers and gently kiss her upon the lips.

"I owe you an explanation my love," I whisper as I pull back.

"Yes you do," She replies dropping her hand from my neck and taking a step back. I can see her eyes going over my face, taking in all the changes. "I'll put the kettle on," she says before turning around and going back into the house. I follow close behind with my suitcases.

I head upstairs towards our bedroom to drop off my suitcases while Wilma, heads into the kitchen. I step into our modest bedroom. Lavender curtains are pulled back from the window to allow the sun in. I dump the suitcases by a wooden dresser. I look at our double bed, with its white pillows and white duvet. It'll be nice to sleep in my own bed again. As I turn to leave I realise the scent of my wife is everywhere in the room.

My head starts to swim and I feel a little dizzy as I stumble from the bedroom. I rest against the wall, taking in deep breathes, trying to clear my head. Once I start to feel normal again, I head back down stairs, and into the kitchen. Wilma is standing over the kettle as I walk in. I watch as the steam rises from the kettle and wisps lightly under the pale blue wall mounted cupboards. A white plastic kitchen top covers one wall, and sits atop more cupboards.

A kitchen skin sits on the far wall next to the kitchen top, with a washing machine next to that. A door leading out into the back garden sits shut next to the washing machine. A wooden table fills up the centre of the kitchen, leaving a walkway around the edge of the kitchen. Wilma looks up at me as I cough lightly, and gives me a warming smile. Maybe this wont be as hard as I thought it would be.

I just stand there and watch Wilma make two cups of tea for now, as I collect my thoughts. I watch as she takes the boiled kettle and fills up the teapot with boiling water, after adding two teabags to the pot. She puts the lid on the pot, and carries it across to the table, where two empty cups stand. She fills the cups up to a third full, before collecting a bottle of milk from the fridge next to me. Once she's added milk to the teas and put the milk back into the fridge, I step forward towards the table and pick up one of the cups.

The scent of earl grey tea fills my nostrils, and sets my mouth to watering. With a happy sigh I take a small sip, allowing the flavour to rush over my tongue before swallowing. The tea barely registers as hot on my tongue, and I take a gulp of tea before I realise what I've done. I put my cup down on to the table gently as I look at Wilma. The puzzled look she gives me, leaves me feeling ashamed. It is then that I realise that I can't lie to her.

I step round to the other side of the table, not only to keep it between us, but also to give me a few extra seconds. Yes I was trying to stall. I'm afraid what she'll do when I tell her the truth. At least what I know about the truth.

"Hunny?" Wilma says, after taking a sip of her tea. I find myself wanting to tell her to sit down. Another stalling manoeuvre, but there's no chairs in the kitchen. "What happened to you?" She asks.

"I'm not to sure what to say," I say lamely, looking out the kitchen window, so that I don't have to look at Wilma. "The Doctor in Norway said I should be dead." I say, only a little louder than a whisper. I hear her gasp, and set her cup down. I quickly glance at her, to see she has covered her mouth. Shock and fear in her eyes. "I was attacked by, something." I bark a harsh laugh.

"It was some sort of large beast. Like a wolf but bigger, more human like." I face her finally. With another sigh, I take my jacket off, and pull my shirt off over my head. Another gasp escapes my wife's lips as she takes in my torso. I turn slightly to the left so she can see the scars on my left arm. "It left me with a souvenir." The scars looked months old, instead of a few days old. "I was out for four days I'm told, and when I awoke... Well look at me." I tell her, holding my arms out, and turn around slowly so she can get a good look at me.

I watched as she stood frozen, wondering whether she was planning on running, or worse, screaming. So when she moved, I looked away again. It only took me a second to realise that I couldn't hear her running or screaming. I turned my head back round, to find her coming to stand next to me, her arm raised before her. A shiver ran up my spine as her fingers trace the four scars down my left arm. I could still see the horror in her eyes at what had happened to me. Yet now there was something else.

I couldn't identify it, but the look on her face, was one of wonder. Her fingers moved up my arm and across my shoulder, to trace down my torso to rest, full palm, on my abs. Her hand felt oddly cool on my abs, yet there was an undercurrent of warmth and love as well. I couldn't understand why Wilma was so willing to continue to love me, after what had happened to me. It didn't help that I knew something was wrong with me.

Yet I couldn't deny my heart. I could feel it thumbing away in my chest at her touch. A strong desire to hold her in my arms swept through me, and I took a step towards her. Her other hand touched my chest, resting atop my heart. A smile appeared on her face as she looked up at me. A raging heat built up inside of me, as our eyes met. I could see my love and desire returned. I gently wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to me.

Our lips met again, and this time our kiss was full of passion un-denied. Her arms travelled around my chest, one ending up on the back of my neck, the other coming to rest on my ass. She gave it a teasing squeeze, which released a growl of desire from me. My lips travelled kisses along her cheek and down her neck. Her scent filled my nostrils, and once more I felt light headed, but this time I embraced it.

I felt powerful, and wanted to howl my pleasure. It was that thought that made me push away from Wilma. I could see the hurt and unspoken question in her eyes, as I stood there panting heavily.

"I don't," I begin to say, but she steps back towards me, pushing a finger to my lips. "Hurt you," I mumble around her finger. She smiles up at me, and actually giggles. She hadn't giggled at me in about twenty years.

"Harry, my love." Wilma said running the finger around my lips. "You won't hurt me." She stated firmly, a look of hunger entered her eyes. "Whatever happened to you was a gift, and you shouldn't be ashamed of it." Her spare hand had rapped around my neck, and pulled me back towards her. "Now kiss me again." She all but purred, and I couldn't resist.

-/-

I felt relaxed, and satisfied as I lay in bed next to Wilma. She lay naked on top of me, her matured yet still firm breasts resting on my chest, felt so perfect that I never wanted her to move. Her legs were wrapped around my right leg, and I could feel our love juices trickling down my leg. Her head was resting on my shoulder, her long red hair covering her back. I smiled as I thought about just how wild and exciting it had been. I found myself playing with her hair, as she slept on me.

I looked over at the alarm clock on the night stand and noted that Jack would be home from school soon. I knew I'd have to get up to greet my son, yet I really didn't want to leave my wife. I didn't want to wake her up either. I shut my eyes, and recalled Wilma's face as we made love. I could feel myself stir at the mental image, and almost woke Wilma up for another round. Instead I took a deep solid breath, and carefully rolled Wilma off me. I got off the bed, and pulled the duvet over Wilma.

After planting a kiss upon her forehead, I stretched, once again marvelling at the strength I could feel in my body. I really wanted to talk to Wilma about what to tell Jack, but it would have to wait. For now I would keep to my story of plastic surgery. Jack was young still and I didn't want to scare him with the truth. Especially as I wasn't sure what the exact truth was. Still Jack usually went straight to his room, when he got home.

I figured I could get away with not talking to him directly until dinner time. Wilma would be up by then, and we could discuss what to tell Jack. I get dressed in some simple plain brown trousers, and as an after thought grab a white shirt and put it on. I headed back down the stairs and into the kitchen. I take a glass out of one of the wall mounted cupboards and fill it with water from the tap. I down it in a few gulps before refilling the now empty glass.

The water feels cool and refreshing on my tongue and down my throat. With a content sigh, I exit the kitchen, and head into the living room. The window looks out onto the drive, and the curtains are half closed. A lone wooded chair sits by the window, where Wilma had kept watch for me. The other two wooden chairs sit by a simple wooden dining table, which is tucked into the corner by the door. On the far wall sits an empty fireplace, and next to it, sits a small TV.

A couch rest in the middle of the room facing the TV and fireplace. I head for the couch, and lower myself onto it, picking up the remote control for the TV which was resting on the arm of the couch. I turn the TV on, and just generally flick through the channels, not actually looking for something to watch. About forty minutes later I hear the school bus screech to a stop in the street, and I put the remote down, leaving the TV on the news.

Three minutes later and I hear the front door opening, and then close again.

"Hello?" I hear Jack call out.

"Hey Son. Your Mum's asleep so be keep it down." I say over my shoulder.

"Hey Dad. Have fun in Norway?" He asks, yet I can hear his foot falls heading for the stairs.

"It was, different." I say back, as he starts walking up the stairs. I hear his bedroom door open and shut.

My eyes are staring into the fireplace, completely ignoring the TV. It's just comforting background noise, while my thoughts dwell once more on what has happened to me. Will I ever learn the full truth of what the beast was. and what it has done to me. I'm not sure if I'll get the answers I'm looking for. I lean back on the couch and shut my eyes. At least I'm home, and life can start to return to normal. Wilma's reaction assures me that others shouldn't be to harsh in judging me. Through only Wilma will know the truth.

-/-

That evening after dinner, I find myself in the back garden. The grass under my bare feet feels comforting, as I gaze up at the sky. I notice the moon is almost full, and for some reason that sends a shiver of desire down my spine. Wilma agreed with me, not to tell Jack the truth, and he seemed to except the story of me having plastic surgery. I think he actually likes having a younger looking Dad. I feel like he intends to parade me in front of his friends fathers, just to show them that I'm the cooler father.

I chuckle heartily to myself, wondering if Jack would really do that. I turn around, ready to return to my bed, but stop. I find myself gazing up at the moon again, and the dream I had on the plane home returns to me. I think I know what my dream is trying to tell me, and I hope it isn't true. Still if it is, I'm going to have to leave for a few days. I don't want to be around my family when the full moon rises into the sky.

They are the last people I want to hurt. Is there somewhere I can lock myself away at night? I think back to the beast that attacked me, and decided that if that's my fate, then maybe not. I frown, as I realise that I wasn't attacked on a full moon. Is this why I feel so drawn to the moon. Because it doesn't have to be full. I pull my gaze away from the moon and to my house. I've still got a few days before I have to return to work. I'll use that time to research my nightmare.


End file.
